Posts Tagged With 'alumni'

Nightmare before Christmas

Posted by Mannimal in Alumni, Issue 3 - Full Text January 12, 2012  |  No Comments

An alumni perspective on the holidays

By: Jesse Greene

As a student, December meant less about the holidays (I was going to write “Christmas” but I’d hate to look like one of those ignorant white people) and more about exams. My life was taken over by excessive binge eating and evenings in TC 22 spent dreaming of the day that I would never again have to answer a question that began with “In what ways and to what extent.” More often than not, it would begin to look a lot more like x number of exams in x-1 days (in other words, a lot of exams in not a whole lot of time) than x-mas.

What was always most bizarre to me, though, wasn’t the stress, but the fact that for a season of sharing – of celebrations alongside those you (ought to) love most – it was actually a time I spent largely to myself.

Nightly 2:15 AM Tim Horton’s trips with friends allowed me to grieve the downside of post- colonial nationalism in Cuba and the need for an anti-calendar entry so that no one would ever make the mistake that I did by taking a course on post-colonial nationalism in Cuba. While these trips felt like an escape from solitude, the sense of relief was only ever temporary. Shortly after, or (more truthfully) whenever the guilt of trying to drag out the coffee trip tugged at my Catholic conscious to unrivalled levels only my mother could only aspire to achieve, I would return to a blank computer screen with a word count that needed to be doubled…and then some.

And then, after submitting the paper or writing the exam, I would return to my room and go through the same routine until the next one. My life was straight out of a scene from Groundhog Day. It was only during exam time that an otherwise twenty minute meal evolved into an hour long affair. Being with friends, even if it meant engaging in a competition to see who had it off worst, (cue the tales of post-colonial Cuban nationalism) served as the perfect escape from the countless evaluations.

And that really was what made this time the most solitary – the countless evaluations. It was during this period that you returned to being a 9-digit number whose ability to construct ideas, offer up original insight, and source appropriate examples was decoded into a percentage. Throughout December, one percent could feel like the difference between being the CEO and being the CEO’s receptionist. Doing well on an essay translated to a salary riddled with zeros (preferably six) preceded by a one. And not doing well? See: Parent’s basement.

In fourth year, the pressure had intensified. While I had absolutely no intention of attending either law or medical school, I doubted myself. What if I want to go to law school and that 81% on the in-class quiz keeps me from getting in? I was scared. Although I could apply reason to developing essay arguments in order to succeed, when it came to my own life, doing so evaded me.

Fear is a powerful weapon, and at university, it tended to be responsible for more than a few self-inflicted wounds. I recall feeling that the 84% I finished with in ECO100 was going to signal to a future employer that I wasn’t the best candidate for the position. I was wrong. I was hired a week before my final exam by two employers for corporate positions. I used the negotiating skills from university to not only secure the positions, but to fandangle both concurrently.Don’t let a number define your future. And, most importantly, don’t let December exam period be the Grinch who stole Christmas.

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[Eventually] Leaving on a Jet Plane

Posted by Mannimal in Alumni, Issue 2 - Full Text January 12, 2012  |  No Comments

The Almuni Column

By: Jesse Greene

Author’s note: I am writing this while on a stopover in Dallas-Fort Worth.

I really dislike stopovers between flights that are direct with Air Canada, but because AC is double the price I’m instead flying Continental or American or United and, consequently, have a stopover.

And yet despite my aversion to these layovers, they somehow remind me of university, an experience which I actually enjoyed quite a bit. If life was to be looked at as one long trip, university would be the layover – unless, of course, you’re among the 1% flying Emirates direct. For those of you to whom this holds true, you get to enjoy in-flight champagne, not a domestic beer you wouldn’t fathom ordering in a bar, and a pretty flight attendant with a soft-spoken British accent, in place of Joy, an American stewardess from Utah, who is anything but.

University, like a layover, is the midpoint of a journey. The junction. It serves as the (hopefully) temporary destination where future relationships and career options are first molded. When it comes to personal development, it is best described by Britney, in both her soulful ballad, “I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman,” and her critically acclaimed, leading role as Lucy Wagner in 2002’s Crossroads. Britney aside, this is a point where the freedom of adulthood is in conflict with the constraint of youth. Here, the credit card is both an endless money supply and a looming debt burden, and sex is a combination of love’s reward and penalty.

But university is so much more than bouts in the emergency room for alcohol poisoning and habits of (over-)wearing “comfy” pants with an elastic waist, just like a layover isn’t simply eating McNuggets in one of the terminal’s two McDonald’s. This is because each college, like each airport, has its own culture defined by its transient inhabitants.

In Guadalajara, I saw more drawn-on eyebrows and blue eye shadow than at a gay club during a drag show. Conversely, in Dallas, a man complained loudly about refs not calling offsides, and shouted that the New York Jets are the St. Louis Cardinals of football – a reference I still don’t understand. To be honest, I didn’t understand much that he was saying. However, I could appreciate his passion, especially as I saw him ever so reluctantly board his flight at Gate D28 as the game was just entering the fourth quarter.

Some sleep through the layover. Others take the time to spend money on things they wouldn’t fathom spending money on anywhere else. I imagine they ask themselves,“where else am I going to find a black ballpoint pen with my name on it?” before heading to the cash register.

“Dollarama,” I’d reply. A handful of travellers grumble with the attendants at their gate demanding to know

why the thunderstorm outside is responsible for delaying the flight departure time. Quite a few – in fact, twelve on my flight – unsuccessfully request to be upgraded to business class. Those on standby pace anxiously near the counter.

While I knew it was temporary, I made the most of my layover. For better of for worse, it was a defining part of my journey, and before I knew it, I was boarding.

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Fireside Chats

Posted by Mannimal in Alumni, Contributions, Issue 1 - Full Text January 12, 2012  |  No Comments

Featuring Hannah Sung

By: Robin Buller

“I was frosh in ’96 – holy $&!#!” she joked when asked to recall her freshman experience.

Meet Hannah Sung – Ex VJ, new mom, and Trinity College alumnus. In an exclusive interview with the Salterrae, Sung takes a walk down first-year-memory lane, opening up about her time at Trin and giving words of wisdom to this year’s newbies.

Robin Buller: So, Hannah, tell me about your Frosh Week. How was the experience?

Hannah Sung: I arrived and I was really excited. There was definitely that palpable feeling in the air of exciting things going on, but I had no clue what exactly was going on around me. I basically went out to everything because I was curious. I think I went into it pretty blind, but I had a great time.

RB: What about Initiations Week?

HS: I remember I became first year rep for the Government of the Lit but I had no idea what it was. There was all this pressure to stand up and give a speech for two minutes I remember feeling kind of nervous [but] …I was voted in!

RB: What was your impression extra curriculars at Trin?

HS: There is a lot of freedom…and there is a lot of trust at Trin with what students can do with their time. That’s the great thing about all the student groups at trin. Does the james bond society still exist?

RB: Yeah!

HS: That’s so funny! Its hilarious that you can apply for money for your club – and it really can be anything. I was in a group a lot like that in terms of [being able to] do anything – Solid Gold Dancers!

RB: Any academic advice?

HS: I wish that I had been more serious about my academic experience. I think that if you’re not sure what you want to study, that’s fine, [and] there’s nothing wrong with exploring. Exploit the time you have! You’ll never have this [much] time again to [do things like] think and read. I wish I had [more] time to do [those things] now. It really is just a great time to explore ideas. If you’re in a program that isn’t totally doing it for you, switch! Don’t drag your feet about prerequisites! It’s really your time to study what you want.

RB: What words of wisdom do you have for Trin’s first years?

HS: First year was a very weird time. I had a really wonderful time, and I had a lot of difficulties too. I guess [my] general advice would be to seek out friends because no matter what you’re interested in and what your studying and what personality you are, there will definitely be someone that you can go out with at Trin. It can be so rejuvinating and exciting to meet people who are interested in the same things. And then when you do come across something that is a difficult situation, you’ll have a friend.

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What do you mean I’ve graduated? – Issue 1

Posted by Mannimal in Alumni, Issue 1 - Full Text January 12, 2012  |  No Comments

A recent alum shares the woes and wonders that come with the cap and gown

By: Jesse Greene

It didn’t hit me that I had graduated until late August. Moving back home in early May didn’t do it, as I had done this each year; neither had working in the summer, another regular happening (in spite of my aspirations to be a kept man / part time socialite / philanthropist / parasite).

Other than the two days of pomp and, well, champagne, that accompany the graduation ceremony, (in reality, a combination of prosecco and sparkling wine) nothing felt different.

I can still remember how one April night during my first year, while prepping for the following morning’s ECO 100 exam, and having just finished a NEW 150 exam at 10:04 PM (African Studies, yes, it was one of those alluring first year courses ending in “studies” that you, too, will mistakenly pursue), the thought of graduation was a refuge from stress.

The next morning, after writing the ECO exam, I grew confident I wouldn’t survive graduation, and I reconsidered my plans. I argued to my parents that Nippissing was the place for me, with its friendly, happy, white people that lived simple lives and tipped cows and had the odd abortion. My parents, of course, had none of it. I then argued to them the many benefits of studying more courses that ended in “studies,” with the assurance that it would make me a – wait for it – “compassionate, lifelong learner.” With that, I graduated with a major in Latin American Studies and Economics. Clearly, there was only so much budging to be had.

Despite the countless stressful nights preparing for tests, drafting papers, or worse yet, dealing with the melodramas that living in close quarters with your frenemies promises, I survived my undergrad. In fact, I think I did better than survive it. I made the experience my own -not to sound like the climax of a special on the Oprah Winfrey Network – with brash, occasionally “racialized” one-liners, most often targeted against my oppressor, the white girl with her Coach wristlets, blow out, and a Saturday evening thirst that only body shots could (and well, did) quench.

This September, though, I did feel like I was missing something. Whether it was the ambush of first years, whose anxiety, lack of self-awareness, and overwhelming yearning to make friends, characterized the good natured spirit of Frosh Week, or the carefree attitude that having vodka shots in preparation for the first evening’s (often very sober) party, student life at Trinity College left an insurmountable impact.

However, I’m a strong advocate that experiences don’t simply end. Rather, they evolve. This, of course, and not the fact that I haven’t waxed or jogged or ellipticalled in some time, doesn’t mean I’ll be back at Toga Party.

What used to be late nights cramming formulas with squiggles of Greek letters, is now assembling guest lists and seating charts long the last Brunny fight (mind you, I’ve gone to bed prior to last flush of vomit). While a year ago today I had a buzz from the Melinda Seaman party (was it artistry or alcohol?), today I get the same feeling following a launch of Moet and Chandon Imperial Ice at TIFF.In many ways, it feels like I haven’t left Trinity, I’ve just entered a new yet familiar place – one where my stress is compensated and Convocation Hall is a mere building, mind you, one where I did happen to graduate.

Pull Quotes: “I can still remember [when]…the thought of graduation was a refuge from

stress” melodramas…I survived”

“Despite the countless stressful nights preparing for tests…[and] dealing with

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